


The Width of a Thread From a Spider's Web

by ashleighjane



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6572899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleighjane/pseuds/ashleighjane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After killing Kilgrave, Jessica makes the decision to try to push everyone out of her life, but this proves itself impossible when Trish comes to her with a case she can't bring herself to ignore</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jessica awoke with a jolt and smacked her head against her desk. She groaned as pain spread through her already throbbing head. She lifted her head gradually. It felt so light, but so heavy at the same time. She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth, removing the saliva that had accumulated as she slept.

Uncomfortable from being slouched over her desk for hours, Jessica arched her back in an attempt to remove a crick. The pain just worsened. She knew that she would have to attempt to make it to her bed that night.

After rubbing at her eyes to wake herself up a little, resulting only in blurred vision, she reached out for her mobile. She jabbed at the power button, perhaps with more force than entirely necessary. As her eyes adjusted she saw she had thirty missed calls, mostly from Trish, and it was four in the afternoon. She smiled a little as she realised she had managed to waste another day. Another day gotten through without having to deal with any human interaction; just the way she wanted.

She became aware of a foul stench and quickly realised it was a mixture of whiskey and stale sweat. She needed to take a shower. She couldn’t remember the last time she had washed her hair or changed her clothes. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. Ignoring cases had left her with no money to buy food.

All she had done in the days since being acquitted for the murder of Kilgrave was sit in her apartment, feeling numb. She had thought that killing him would make her feel better. She thought that she would feel whole again. She didn’t. She felt the same. In fact, she probably felt worse. Empty; a failure; guilty; a burden; a piece of shit. Killing Kilgrave hadn’t saved all of the people whose deaths he had been responsible for. She wasn’t a hero. She never had been and never could be, no matter what Trish thought. She was a cancer. A disease. She slowly destroyed everything around her. She looked around her office, noticing the crumbling ceiling and holes in the walls. It wasn’t even just people she hurt. Nothing she touched stood a chance.

With a drag of a finger, she removed the missed calls from the screen. She didn’t want to hear what Trish had to say, and didn’t give a crap about the calls from desperate assholes who had fucked up and thought she was going to save their sorry asses.

As the missed calls disappeared from the screen another notification came into view, one for a text message from Malcolm. ‘I still think you should consider an open door policy. Appointments make you seem unapproachable.’

“Good.” Jess muttered to herself, as she finished reading the text.

She sighed and shook her head as she threw the phone down on her desk. She stood up, wincing as a sharp pain snapped through her back.

She took a few steps across the room towards the recently fixed door, before ripping it off it’s hinges and throwing it out into the corridor. She counted the seconds in her head. She reached twenty as Malcolm came dashing from his apartment, glancing around to see what had caused the disturbance. When he realised what had happened he threw his arms up in the air. “What were you thinking?” He asked, with exasperation, of Jess, who was leaning against the now empty door post with her arms folded and a smirk upon her face.

“You keep saying I should have an open door policy.” She shrugged “Well, there you have it. An open door. Alias Investigations was a pathetic name anyway.”

Malcolm opened his mouth, started to say something and then stopped. He shook his head furiously. “I’m done with this. I’m done with you.” He slunk back into his apartment, slamming the door behind him.

Jessica looked slightly smug as she reentered her office. Pushing people away was just so easy. It was the right thing to do, no matter how shitty it made her feel. Pushing people away kept them from getting hurt.

Returning to her desk, she picked up the bottle of whiskey she had been working her way through for the past few days. She started to pour it into a tumbler, but changed her mind at the last minute, shrugging before chugging the last few dregs straight from the bottle. It burned as it trickled down her throat. That’s what she loved about it. It wasn’t that being inebriated made her forget. If anything it made her remember more. Its was the burning; the fire. It reminded her that she was actually capable of feeling something.

Once the bottle was empty she simply tossed it on the floor, too lethargic to bother tidying it up. The place was a mess anyway. It wasn’t like one bottle would make much difference. She stared down at the bottle for a moment before shrugging and starting for her bedroom. As she started to move her phone rang. Out of habit she picked it up. Trish. A finger hovered over the answer button. Her hand shook as her brain fought her heart. She wanted to answer, more than anything. But she knew that she couldn’t. She knew that she couldn’t let Trish in again. It would only lead to pain, for both of them. She grimaced as she fought with herself, her expression full of anguish. It was so hard not to answer Trish’s calls. It was almost physically painful. As always, her finger hit the button just as the phone stopped ringing.

“God damn it.” She said through clenched teeth before kicking the recently dropped whiskey bottle towards a wall, smashing the bottle to smithereens. Why couldn’t Trish just give in? Why did she have to make things so difficult?

“What happened to the door this time?”

Jess jumped, turning in haste to see who had snuck in, realising that removing the door in petulant rage had been a bad move. “Trish?” Jessica kept her voice as flat as possible, not wanting Trish to know that some part of her was glad to see her. “I told you not to come here. Why did you phone if you were already here?” She questioned, confusion crossing her face.

“I just wanted to see how easy it was for you to ignore my calls.” Her voice was icy cold. She slipped her phone back into her coat pocket

“That’s not fair.” She scowled, though she couldn’t really blame Trish for being cold. It was unlike Trish to act that way though. In that moment Jess realised that by avoiding Trish she had done exactly what she had not wanted to do. She had hurt her. But not as badly as she could have if she had let her in. It had still been the right thing to do. Hadn’t it? The line between right and wrong was the width of a thread from a spider’s web. “Trish, you know that -”

“I didn’t come here to talk. You made it quite clear the last time we spoke that you didn’t mean it when you said you loved me.”

Jessica’s eyes darted down to the ground. She felt so guilty, wondering if she had done the right thing after all. She looked back up again, looking Trish directly in the eyes. “Then why the hell are you here?”

“Business.”

“I’m not taking any new cases.”

“I’ll pay you double.”

Jessica exhaled deeply. She knew she couldn’t afford to turn that down. She was running out of alcohol. And food. Food was important too. “Fine. What is it? Oh God, please don’t tell me you want me to find Simpson. If I find that dillweed, I swear I will cut off all five of his limbs.”

“Jessica, please.” Trish sighed. “It’s not about Simpson. It’s about” She stopped talking and groaned. “It’s about Kilgrave. And you.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“No. This is real. I have evidence. I haven’t been sleeping. I can’t stop thinking about it.” Trish raced through the words, barely breathing between sentences. She seemed almost excited about it.

“Five minutes. You have five minutes to explain yourself before I have security remove you.” After a pause she continued. “I’m security, in case you didn’t get that.”

“I think I got it.” Trish replied, her previously blank expression softening, as a hurt look crossed her face, her eyes welling with tears.

“Oh Jesus.” Jessica placed a hand over her face for a second, then ran it through her grease filled hair. “I’m sorry. It’s been a bad couple of days. Just … just let me go shower, then I’ll listen to what you need to tell me.”

Trish nodded, and gave a small appreciative smile. “Thank you.”

As Jessica left for her bathroom she muttered to herself. “God, I’m such an asshole.” She thought it was quiet enough for Trish not to hear.

“You’re not wrong there.” Trish called after her.

Jessica couldn’t quite help it. A small smile played upon her lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Jessica took her time showering. She turned the temperature up as high as it would go. The water that sprayed over her scalded her skin just as she wanted it to. She deserved the pain. She knew that she shouldn’t treat Trish as she did. She had been happy to ignore her for six months, until suddenly Kilgrave was back and she needed a shoulder to lean on. Alone in the shower, tears began to pool in Jessica’s eyes. Luke had been right. She was a piece of shit.

She leaned against the tiled wall of the shower and allowed her body to slide down it as she lost the energy to stand. In the confined space she was forced to bring her knees up to her chest. She wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling her body into a tight ball. She rested her chin on top of her knees and sighed.

She didn’t understand. She shouldn’t have been feeling like that, not now that Kilgrave had been dealt with; now that he was dead, for real. She knew for sure this time. She had done it with her own bare hands. She was a murderer. But that was okay, wasn’t it? It was okay to murder someone who had done so much wrong, wasn’t it? It was okay. “Birch Street, Higgins Drive, Cobalt lane”, she muttered to herself, followed by a slight scowl. She hated that it worked. She hated that the quack therapist had actually been right about something. It meant that maybe he was right about other things too; things she didn’t want him to be right about.

After dragging her fingers through her dripping wet hair, Jessica pulled herself back up from the shower floor, using the door handle as leverage. She grunted as she did so, her back still causing her pain from sleeping over her desk.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she stepped out of the shower, and was surprised by her appearance. Dark circles under her eyes made her look so very tired. Her sunken cheeks, caused by losing too much weight too quickly when she was already so slight made her look unwell.

She realised that killing Kilgrave hadn’t made her better at all. She may have killed him, but he wasn’t dead, not really. He lived on in her memory. She remembered all of the terrible things he had made her do. She remembered all of the terrible things he had made other people do.  
Most of all she remembered that one time when he had saved someone. Perhaps, in another time and another place and different circumstances he could have been a good man, and she had killed him. It wasn’t okay. She had played God. She had decided who deserved to live or to die, and no one, especially not her, should have that power. She wasn’t exactly innocent. If Kilgrave deserved to die, Jessica thought, then maybe she did too.

* * *

For the first couple of minutes whilst waiting for Jessica’s return Trish had simply sat, humming quietly and taking in her surroundings. She began to tap a foot against the floor, not one for sitting still for long. There was always something to be done, if one looked hard enough. It didn’t take much looking to see that much needed to be done in Jessica’s apartment. The waste paper bin was overflowing with empty bottles of various spirits. Trish frowned slightly. She knew that Jessica drank. God knows, she didn’t blame her. But actually seeing the evidence of it left her feeling somewhat uneasy, unsure that she could go on ignoring it, but sure that Jessica would resent her if she didn’t.

Sighing, Trish got up and walked through to the kitchen, in search of a refuse bag. She shook her head and placed a hand over her mouth in her surprise at the mess she found in there, even though she knew she hardly should have been surprised. The sink was overflowing with unwashed dishes, starting to grow mould. Trish was surprised that Jessica had even bothered to cook, but this was proved wrong when her eyes fell upon the takeout boxes spilling out of the bin.

At that moment Trish decided that she had to get Jessica out of there. It wasn’t like Jessica was ever one for good housekeeping, but on top of the excessive drinking and poor personal hygiene, Trish could tell that she was in a downward spiral. The last time this had happened Jessica had pushed her away and, hurt, Trish had given in. This time she vowed that things would be different. No matter what hateful things Jessica could say, she would stay by her.

* * *

Her fingers hovered over the door handle, hesitant to go back into Trish. She sighed. She had nothing to be nervous about. All she had to do was listen to whatever crap Trish had made up as an excuse to come and see her, thank her for her concern, and send her home. No big deal. She swallowed the saliva, a production of her irrational anxiety, took a deep breath, and swung the door open.

Trish was sitting now, looking as nervous as she felt, her eyes darting from object to object; her breathing faster than usual. Trish looked at Jessica, then scratched at the back of her head, something she always did when nervous. Jessica frowned, wishing she didn’t know Trish so well; wishing that pushing her away so that she couldn’t hurt her wasn’t so hard; wishing she didn’t care about Trish so much; wishing that she could be selfish and keep Trish in her mess of a life. “So.” She walked over to her desk and jumped onto it, swinging her legs against it. “Your five minutes starts now.” She saw the hurt again in Trish’s eyes as she said this and had to look away. She had to do it. She had to push her away, even if it hurt her. She knew Trish would be even more hurt if she stayed around her, and not just emotionally.

“I think that Kilgrave had a boss.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, allowing Trish to continue with her Nancy Drew shit.

Trish reached down into the tote bag that she had slid underneath the desk, out of the way, and pulled out a wad of papers which she passed over to the woman sitting on the desk.

Jessica looked bored as she skimmed down the papers, the corners of her mouth turned down into a frown. “Trish, have you been drinking caffeinated coffee again? What does any of this,” she waved a hand over the sheet of paper in front of her “have to do with Kilgrave?” Seeing Trish’s slight grimace at her indifference, Jessica felt like an awful human being. Trish wore her heart on her sleeve, and it made everything so much more difficult.

“You should read the rest.” There was a hint of tension as Trish spoke, as though she was trying her utmost to speak evenly.

Jessica lifted both of her shoulders just a little, giving a non-commital shrug, and let out an exasperated breath. “Okay, whatever.” She flipped the first page over, letting it drop to the floor.

“Would you stop?” Trish snapped

“What?” She didn't take her eyes off of the papers she held. “Whoa.” Jessica began to rifle through the pages, this time her eyes squinted as she actually payed attention the words she was reading. “Who the hell are these people? Why have I never heard of them? Organisations with that much money to spend on some kids medical bills, someone has usually heard of. It can't have been a publicity stunt or,” Jessica trailed off. She had no idea why the company had payed for her medical bills. It had piqued her interest, but was not something she wished to poke around in unless she had to. Something told her it was nothing good. “Look, Trish, stay away from this. It's nothing. I don't need you meddling in my personal life.” It'll only end up getting you hurt. That's what she wanted to say, but she couldn't. Trish would only want to put herself in further dangerous situations then, to prove her worth. No, pushing her away was the best thing to do. It always had been. “Where did you get all this shit from anyway?”

“My mom came by with an enormous stash of paperwork. I think maybe she thought it was redemption for the way she treated me. Treated us.” Seeing a warning look from Jessica Trish shook her head quickly. ‘No, no. I'm not. I'm not allowing her into my life. Not again.”

“Good”

“So, at first I just thought like, whatever, some company felt sorry for you and decided to foot your bill. No big deal. But then something wasn't sitting right and I started thinking. I was up all last night thinking about this.” Trish was speaking very quickly, her words spilling out almost jumbled. “You got your super powers right after the accident.”

Jessica nodded. “They're not super powers, but yes.”

“What if IGH was responsible for them? Then I thought more, and wondered if they were maybe responsible for Kilgrave too.”

Jessica jumped down from her desk and placed a hand lightly upon Trish’s shoulder. “You're being paranoid. We already know that Kevin’s parents were responsible for his abilities.”

“People lie about things, all time. You should know.” Trish said snarkily, referring to the time that Jessica had chosen to use those three words to prove that she wasn't under the control of Kilgrave.

“I didn't - I don't need this. Go home. Get some sleep.”

“Fine.” Trish snatched up her bag and spun on her heel in one fluid movement.

Jessica took a step forwards, about to stop Trish from leaving, not wishing to leave things on another bad point despite knowing it was for the best. Barefoot after her shower, she yelped as she stood on a piece of glass from the whiskey bottle that she had earlier kicked at the wall. “Mother fucker.” She stumbled back over to the desk and sat down on it, wanting to examine her sole.

Upon hearing Jessica’s shout of pain, Trish had promptly returned. She could be mad at her best friend, but that didn't mean she could ever leave her injured. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. It's just a cut. I've had worse.”

“I don't doubt it, but you should let me have a look.”

“What? Playing detective didn't work out so now you want to play nurse?”

Standing with her arms folded, and her weight resting mostly upon one hip, Trish raised an eyebrow.

“That came out wrong. Just take a look.”

Trish knelt down and gently took a hold of Jessica’s ankle, bringing her foot towards her. ‘Jess, that looks pretty deep. And I think there's glass in it. Come on. I'm taking you to the hospital. This needs stitches.”

Jessica shook her head. “No. No hospital. You know I hate them. Full of sick, needy people. And they always seem to want to talk about it.”

Trish knew that that wasn't really why Jessica disliked hospitals. She knew it was because they brought back memories of the accident, but she didn't say anything and even managed a small smile. “Oh yeah. Those kinds of people are just the worst. You need to get that checked out though. You can't just leave glass in a cut.”

“I have tweezers.”

Trish looked at Jessica blankly for a moment before her eyes bulged. “You mean you want me to get it out?” She shook her head. “No. No way. I don't know what I'm doing. I could do more harm than good.”

“Would you just try? I might pass out if I lose any more blood.”, she said followed by a smirk. The wound hadn't bled that much.

“Fine. If you won't go to the hospital then fine. But if anything goes wrong, it's on you. Where's your first aid kit?”

Jessica just stared at Trish, saying nothing.

“Right. I should have known. I'll go ask Malcolm.”


	3. Chapter 3

Trish hurried along the corridor to Malcolm apartment, her kitten heels clacking against the floor, the sound echoing in the confined space.

She rapped her knuckles against the door, more forcefully and with more urgency than she would ordinarily. Receiving no answer, she tried again, louder. This time the door flung open to reveal an angry looking Malcolm. “Jessica. I thought I told you - oh.” Malcolm face softened as he realised it was a case of mistaken identity. “Sorry.” He said sheepishly whilst rubbing at the back of his neck. “I thought you were Jess.”

“What's she done this time?” Trish was surprised by the usually placid Malcolm’s annoyance when he thought that it was Jess at his door. “Actually, never mind. I don't think I want to know.”

Malcolm shoved his hands deep into his pockets, looking slightly uncomfortable. Trish got the feeling that he didn't want to discuss Jessica's troubles. “So, can I help you with anything? I'm guessing you're not here to borrow sugar.” Malcolm used air quotes around the word borrow.

Trish laughed, aware that Jessica had a track record of forgetting to return borrowed items. “No. I was just wondering if you have a first aid kit anywhere.”

Malcolm nodded. “Of course. Who doesn't have a first aid kit?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh. Figures. I'll just”, Malcolm gestured behind him, then turned and headed back into his apartment. He returned a few.moments later, first aid box in hand. “Do you need any help?”

Trish shook her head. “No. I'll be fine.” She took the box from him. She bit her lower lip. “Actually, can I take you along her moral support?”

“Sure. What's going on anyway?”

“Jess stood on some glass. Honestly, I think it needs stitches. Of course she's refusing to go to a hospital.”

“Typical. She's a nightmare.”

“Tell me about it.”

“You guys know I can hear you, right?”, Jessica called from her apartment.

Trish and Malcolm glanced at each other before they both burst out laughing and walked back to Jessica's apartment side by side.

“I thought you were done with me”. Jessica glared at Malcolm as he entered.

“Don't be like that.”

“I'm not being like anything, I'm just stating a fact.”

Trish placed a hand against her forehead and sighed. “Jess, just shut up and give me your foot.”

Jess frowned, but lifted her foot up, which Trish supported by the heel in the palm of her hand.

Trish passed the first aid kit to Malcolm. “Could you see if there's any sterilised wipes in there, please. I really think this need cleaning.” Trish glanced at Jessica's stained floor as she said this.

“Hey, the place isn't that bad.”

Trish glanced at Malcolm uncomfortably, knowing that he would say what she didn't want to.

“Jessica, this place is a dump. My apartment was cleaner than this when I was high all day.”

“Would you just get on with it. Then you can both leave.”

Malcolm passed the wipes he had found over to Trish, who gently wiped around the cut. “Jess, I know you said not last time, but things are different now. Kilgrave is gone and I think,” Trish hesitated and as she did Jessica cut in.

“I'm not moving in with you again. I'm fine here.”

“You don't look fine. You look ill. I'm worried about you.”

“I'm not yours to worry about.”

Trish dropped Jessica's foot, stood up and shook her head slowly. She was holding back tears as she turned her back on the person who used to be her best friend and walked out of the door.

“What was the all about?”, Malcolm asked, looking bewildered.

“Nothing. Would you just get the damn glass out and go the hell home? I'm not in the mood for company.”

“That didn't look like nothing to me.” He shrugged and picked up the tweezers from the first aid kid. “This is probably gonna hurt. Shall I get you something to bite on?”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “I'll be fine. Just get it over with before I take those tweezers and pull your brains out through your nose.”

“You should try being nicer to the only people on this planet that are actually trying to help you.”

“No, I really shouldn't.”

“And why’s that?” Malcolm questioned as he knelt down and wiggled the tweezers into Jessica's cut.

Jessica winced and held on tightly to the desk, causing it to creak with the pressure. “Because everybody that has ever” Jessica pauses to gasp as Malcolm reinserted the tweezers and pulled more out. “gotten close to me ended up dead or hurt.”

“I'd be dead if it wasn't for you.”

“If it wasn't for me Kilgrave would never have gone after you.”

“If it wasn't for you I wouldn't have been alive for Kilgrave to have gone after.”

“My family died because of me.”

“Stop it.” Malcolm wrapped a bandage around Jessica's foot. It looked sloppy, but it would do its job. “Stop blaming yourself for everything. You're a good person. It's not your fault that other people aren't so good.”

“It's not my fault, but it is my fault if I let Trish in now and she ends up dead. She's safer without me.”

“Life's too short for this. Call her. Tell her you're sorry and hope she forgives you. Because one day you'll want to let her in, and she won't be interested.”

Jessica let out a small breath and shook her head. “Since when have you been such a matchmaker? Just go home.”

“Matchmaker?” He looked confused. “You meant that … oh. I didn't realise you … that's cool. I'll just”, Malcolm cleared his throat “I guess I'll go home now. If you're okay.”

Jessica smirked. “I'm fine. Go home.” She said forcefully.

Malcolm nodded and left.

Once Malcolm was gone, Jessica reached into her desk drawer and pulled out another bottle of whiskey. Once this bottle was half gone she groaned and picked up her mobile and typed out a message to Trish.

“Hi. I'm sory. I'm a asshole. Malcolm says lfie is to shrot for this bullshit. Meet me heer tomorrwo. We can look into this IGH.”

Jessica hit the send button, then after a few moments started to type out another message.

“I love you.”

She pressed the delete button before resting her head against her chest and letting a few drunken tears escape.


End file.
